Home Sweet
by Gnee
Summary: After being attacked, Hanna begins suffering from strange dellusions and hallucinations, and with the press and police constantly intruding, it's getting harder and harder to hide Hanna's secrets. Rated T for language.
1. Assault

**Oh, hellow. This is a series, just so you know, and my first attempt at an on-going fanfic.**

**I'm nervous!**

**I don't own Hanna is Not a Boy's Name, of course.**

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"Here, miss, let me show you. We have new kitchen supplies, so you might see something new you like..."

Hanna wasn't a good business man. He was happy he didn't become a used car salesman. He couldn't imagine how his co-workers woke up every morning and came back to Target every day. The place wasn't as bad as Wal-Mart, which Hanna had worked in for a year or two, but it still drained the life out of anyone that moved. But Hanna had a secret weapon - a friend that stood by him and walked to Target almost every other day to walk home with him. Before Plato came along, Hanna had been alone (minus Worth, of course), and the redhead was more grateful than he could ever say that the zombie had found him. Because days like March 11th were not days he could easily survive on his own.

As he shuffled over to the kitchen area, with a woman and her three obnoxious boys behind her, Hanna could feel the beginnings of a headache slowly seep into his brain. He cast a glance at the clock on the wall, and then over to the door with the big sign, "EMPLOYEES ONLY". It would be another ten minutes until Hanna could walk in that door, shove the homemade mac n' cheese that Joab made into an old radioactive microwave and collapse on the hideous red couch to eat. But first he had to suffer through this family.

"Uh - sir? How much is 20% off of $30.00?"

"Where can I find the pacifiers?"

"There's crap all over the floor! Target should be sued!"

"Excuse me? Excuse me! You know, you people are very hard to get a hold of. Where's your manager?"

It all echoed in his head. The idiocy of the average Target customer mind made him wish he could beat his head against a wall. But it was that promise of a 30-minute escape that kept Hanna on his feet.

"Did you say the microwaves were around here?"

Hanna was brought back to earth as the single mother peered around a row of kitchen appliances, and her son began to tug on his pantleg.

"Mister, you'd better stay away from my mommy."

"Hush, Gabe. Oh, never mind sir, I found them. Thank you!"

Hanna opened his mouth to speak, but behind him, from the very front of the store, there was a crash. Daring himself to see what happened, Hanna peered around a refridgerator to see what had happened. One, two, three, four, no five men had entered the store. With big guns. One of them was holding his manager by the collar, another was grinning as he walked through the rows of registers. Hanna's stomach did backflips and he could feel his breathing speed up. There were small children in the store, and his thought was reinforced as someone's baby began to scream and cry from somewhere in the store. Hanna's knees began to shake - had they seen him? Would they shoot him? That family behind him...Hanna gathered up the boy clinging to his knee and signalled for the woman to follow him. He had no idea what he was doing.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..."

She kept muttering the same thing over and over, but Hanna had other noises for company. A hissing ringing in his ears was his lifeline. He focused on that noise - it kept him sane. He led the small family into the workroom, which was empty. Hanna pointed across the room, and tried to speak. He found his throat was dry and he had to paused until he could speak. It was a struggle to keep his voice steady.

"I need you to hide in that closet, don't move. I'm going to get help, okay?"

The woman only nodded, and Hanna noticed she was holding back a stream of tears. Her boys looked panicked and afraid, but they were too confused to understand. For the family Hanna had loathed only a few minutes ago, he felt pity sink in and replace irritation. He offered them a shaky smile as he walked out the door, quick to leave before the mother had a chance to ask him what he was doing. Hanna did a lap around one of the aisles so the criminals wouldn't think he'd come from the direction of the workroom. From his back pocket he pulled out his trusty marker. He couldn't use magic, exactly, because of the witnesses, but he could make it appear as though he'd taken a gun from the sports department. Things moved in slow-motion. Hanna crouched by the end of some shelves, and to his great misfortune, on of the cashiers had caught sight of him. It was Dallas - a teen Hanna was anything but a friend to. He stared wide-eyed as Hanna covered his arm (which Dallas thought would be holding a gun) and took aim. Before he was spotted, Hanna shot a little concentrated bullet-sized burst of magic at one of the buglars.

To his astonishment, he got him in the chest, and the criminal went down, holding his body and screaming. Hanna knew he had to try and hit as many of them as he could. He pointed and aimed again, bang. He hit one's knee, and the man toppled to the ground in agony. Then they realised where he was. Frantically spraying bullets now, Hanna's hand had begun to shake too much to be able to hit anyone else. He came close a few times, but he knew it was over. But he kept firing as they ran towards him, but someone from behind him yanked him up by the collar. He hadn't expected that. Hanna grabbed at his uniform, which had begun to act as a noose. He kicked his legs desperately, with no success, as the other two criminals strode towards, grins on their faces.

"You think you're cute, huh, kid? Thought you'd save the day? Lemme tell you somethin', Superman, we're not fuckin' around. Hope you had fun playing hero, kid."

The tallest burglar spat in his face, and the one behind him handed him one of their comrades guns.

"That punk killed Jack...And Garrett can't walk."

The other burglar, who was aparently the brains of the operation, spun around to meet Hanna's eyes. He looked pretty pissed.

"Ya'here that, kid? You killed Jackie. Cracker Jack. He's dead! And so are you."

Despite his struggle to keep breathing, Hanna closed his eyes tight. He didn't want to watch himself die. He couldn't believe it was over - what a dumb mistake to make! Why didn't he call the police! His phone was in his pocket. Hanna felt a great weight fall through his heart and into his stomach. Laurie was alone, now, because he'd made another mistake, and no one could fix it. Not Worth, not Lamont, nobody. He couldn't imagine his name in the Obits. He couldn't imagine his own funeral. He began shaking, and he realized he'd started crying. Tristan would have to watch him be put into the ground. What would his best friend think? He couldn't imagine, he didn't want to.

It's not like he had a lot of time to, anyway. He vaguely felt two bullets ripple through him - one in his chest, the other in his knee. Then more sounds, even though Hanna couldn't see. Gunshots went off all around him, and it came to mind that now they were slaughtering everyone in the store. Hanna let his face meet the floor, and he opened his eyes. His glasses had fallen off some time ago, but past the blurriness, past three or four aisles, he saw a bit of yellow peeking out from a door. A door that was a little too close to the workroom. Wasn't that single-mom's hair blonde? Hanna watched with blank confusion as she flung herself from the door, waving her arms. Was she trying to get herself killed?

Then people crowded him. Hanna felt his phone go off in his pocket, but through the blinding pain, he couldn't move. Someone got it for him. He could vaguely hear what was being said on the other end.

"Hanna? Hanna! I just turned on the news - the police are there, are you okay! They won't let me come in and get you, Hanna! Answer me!"

He knew who's voice it was, but the pain and the contempt and the worry twisted it beyond recognition. Hanna couldn't stop shaking. He wanted to answer, he really did. But when he opened his mouth to call his friend's name - any name - all that came out was a jumbled mess of syllables. From above him, two policemen glanced at eachother worriedly before the one on the left darted from the scene, presumably to call an ambulence. The other worked to calm Hanna down, who was shaking and crying uncontrollably.

"Son? It's okay, calm down, we'll get you out of here."

This was hardly soothing. Hanna would be sent to a hospital. They would see his chest. With this realization, and the burst of adrenaline that followed, Hanna turned his arm and lifted it as much as he could.

"Ph-phone. P-please..."

The officer hesitated. But he pressed the phone into Hanna palm after turning it on speaker.

"G-get Worth h-here, n...now. D-don't let them take m-me to the hospital."

It was all he could say. He didn't even have time to listen to the response. Dark clouds of exhaustion passed over his eyes, and for once in his life, sleep came easy to Hanna.

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**That was a little faster than I thought it would be, herp. Don't worry, I didn't throw all the action into the first chapter. There'll be more!**

**Please tell me what you think!**


	2. Interruption

"You _have _to let me in."

"We can't do that, sir. You need to leave before we take you out of here in handcuffs."

What was the last name Hanna had called him that morning? Roosevelt. Right? He couldn't remember exactly, not in the heat of what was going on.

"My friend was shot - he _can't_ be taken to the hospital."

The officer did a double-take. "Really? You want to prevent your friend from getting medical attention?"

"...What?" Roosevelt's eyes widened and he shook his head, "No, he has a _certain _doctor, you can't let any other doctor see him! You have to believe me, officer!"

The portly officer turned to completely face the zombie again. It was too dark for him to be able to see the green hue of his skin, and Roosevelt had taken the precaution to talk to the officer farthest from the streetlight. He'd put the thickest pair of glasses over his eyes to dim the glowing, and he wasn't sure how they were working, but the officer didn't seem to notice.

"You bring that docter here before he gets too critical, and you can have him. If he dies in the ambulance, it'll be on your shoulders..."

Roosevelt didn't need telling twice. He left the officer standing there, and after muttering a word of thanks, he pushed off from the side of Target and was off to the back alleys to find Luce Worth. Maybe he wasn't exactly fond with the scrungy doctor, but Hanna trusted him, and that was all the reassurance the zombie needed to trust him with his friend. Whenever he began to slow down, he thought about the phone call, and how cold Hanna must be, how he couldn't be there for him, and that the kid might die. Sometimes, Roosevelt was sure he was going faster than most cars, his jacket fluttering behind him, keeping one hand on his fedora so it didn't fly off. People on the sidewalks stared at him at he darted past, turning into a dark alley, remembering the twists and turns.

With some kind of luck, Roosevelt found himself in front of the door with a piece of paper next to it that read 'Luce Worth' in faded letters. There was a car he didn't recognize nearby, but he assumed it belonged to Lamont. Roosevelt tried the handle, and found it locked, so he threw himself at the door twice and it flung open, and he stumbled forward inside. His fedora had been knocked slightly askew, but it didn't completely block his view. Worth had no shirt on, showing just how frail the doctor actually was. His arms had been wrapped around some woman, but she was hardly worth paying attention to. Worth had probably found he on the corner, anyways. The doctor hardly noticed him, but when the woman refused to continue with an audience, Worth heaved an angry sigh and backed away from his desk. He grabbed a cigarette and threw his coat over the woman and glared at Roosevelt.

"_Well_? Can'tcha see I'm busy, zombie? Where's yer Hanna? Did 'e get 'imself a booboo?"

"Worth," He couldn't bring himself to say it, "Have you seen the news lately?"

Worth only stared at Roosevelt as he lit his cigarette. When neither of them said anything, Worth sighed again and turned to a little TV he had on the floor. He kicked at it, presumably to turn it on, and the screen eventually flickered to life. He only glared at Roosevelt until the weather turned over to the nightly news. There was a storm coming.

_"We come to you live at the scene...We haven't been allowed in, but there appears to have been a shootout at the local Target. From what we can gather, there are two people dead, four wounded, but we did get a witness out here to talk with us. Miss Arnett, a single mother with three children was hidden by a worker at Target. What were you doing when the first gunshots went off?"_

_"I was with a g-guy, he was from t-technology and he s-said he'd help me...Then we h-heard the gunshots and he...He hid me from them..." There were tears in her eyes._

_"Do you know what happened after that?"_

_"H-he said he'd g-go get help, and - and then he got shot!" The woman raised her palm, which was covered in blood, and stepped away from the camera, hiding her face. She burst into tears before she was off the television._

_"A heart-breaking tale, to be sure. The man that helped Miss Arnett appears to be getting worse, with no ambulance in sight. Roger?"_

_"Thank you, Elli..."_

Worth didn't look at Roosevelt. The cigarette fell out of his mouth.

"Hanna works at Target, don't 'e?"

Roosevelt nodded, and the two bolted out the door, Worth with a gray shirt only buttoned up halfway, Roosevelt with his tie loose and his hat still askew. It took them ten minutes to reach the Target, which Worth lived only blocks from. The doctor was out of breath at the scene, but he shoved his way past policeman shouting that he was Hanna's doctors and dragged Roosevelt behind him. The policeman the zombie'd spoken to earlier gave Worth the thumbs-up, and the rest let the Australian through. Worth stormed into the Target, his face stormy, his hands shaking, his shirt uneven, and his hair messed up.

"_Where is 'e_!"

His shout caught the attention of a nearby officer, who saw Worth and waved him to where Hanna lay behind an aisle. He left after Worth crouched down beside Hanna, and the doctor turned his neck.

"We're gunna need some transpertation, officer!" He shouted and the policeman turned to nod, and Worth looked back down at Hanna, "What th' hell were you thinkin' Hanna?"

Roosevelt was shaking, not as bad as Hanna, who was apparently unconscious. Worth's face was broken, a mixture of pity, contempt, and worry. But without his answer, he went to work examining Hanna, grimacing at the rune scribbled on the redhead's palm. This _wasn't _good.

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**Thank you for the reviews! They mean a lot, and I'll do my best to keep up the good work!**

**To Devilkitten1: I've never worked in retail, but my sister does, and she'll tell anyone how awful it is. Thank you!**

**To Maranni123: Thank you for the compliment! And here you go~**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll probably be back to edit after I let it sit for a while.**


	3. Sleep

Worth pulled back Hanna's white sleeve to better examine his arm. Roosevelt watched with silent anticipation, already having taken off his coat and hat, and he threw the coat over Hanna, who more or less seemed to appreciate the gesture. Worth said he wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't coherent either. Roosevelt noticed he paid more attention to Hanna's palm than the gunshot wound. Looking down at his wounded friend, he couldn't help but feel a little useless. He put a cool, dead hand on Hanna's face, in an attempt to not only settle the shakes, but to cool him down. His face was only three shades light than his hair.

"'Ey, dead guy." Worth said finally, looking up and pulling a cigarette from his pocket, "Talk to 'im."

"What do I say?" Roosevelt scooted a little closer to Hanna. He knew that if Worth was there, things would be okay. But he hadn't even put a bandage on Hanna.

"Jus' talk. All'a my medical doodjies're in my coat, so I can't do much fer 'im."

Roosevelt looked down from the smoke that rose from Worth's nose and back down to Hanna. He hadn't thought about that. Worth had covered that hooker with his coat. What a gentleman...

"Hanna? Hey, it'll be okay, Hanna. When we get back, I'll make you lasagna and ravioli and stroganoff," Roosevelt looked up at Worth, to see how he was doing. Worth nodded.

"An' we can invite 'Monty over."

They both turned at the sound of the doors opening. Roosevelt put his jacket on when he saw the ambulance lights, and gathered Hanna in his arms. As they stumbled outside, Roosevelt covered most of Hanna, trying to keep him away from the camera flashes and the news broadcasters, and Worth threatened anyone that got close. As they all clambered into the back of the ambulance and Hanna was properly laid down, everyone looked at Roosevelt and Worth expectantly. Worth was busy taking a hit, so keeping his head down, Roosevelt adressed the driver.

"Worth will give you directions."

The ambulance was quick to take them to Worth's hole-in-the-wall. The men helped unload Hanna and let Worth keep the gurney, once they saw the place. Roosevelt assumed they didn't want to go in. So Worth tugged Hanna's quivering body down into the alleyway while Roosevelt ran ahead to open the door, and Worth hurried inside. With an nod to the EMTs, Roosevelt followed close behind. One glance around the room made him raise an eyebrow.

"_She's_ still here? Who are you anyway?"

Roosevelt jabbed a thumb in the direction of Worth's hooker, who only glance at him, pulled his coat tighter over herself and returned to poking around Worth's office. She didn't seem to be the slightest bit interested in the fact that they had the victim of a shooting in the office, or that there was a zombie there, or even that Worth was back. If anything, she seemed disappointed that he'd brought friends. Worth didn't pay her, or Roosevelt, much attention as he hunched over his boxes of band-aids.

"She's my girlfriend're somethin'. She followed me home, an' we were in the middle of talkin' when you busted in."

'Talking'. A good way to put it. Roosevelt cast another glance at the black-haired woman and crossed the room to be by Hanna. Worth pulled off his shirt and the zombie helped to hold Hanna still as the bullet was extracted from his chest. Hanna screamed once or twice, and his body jolted like he'd been electrocuted, but he still didn't seem very coherent, even after Worth presented the bullet and its several fragments. Roosevelt applied the bandage and wrapped up Hanna's chest, pulling up a chair and sitting next to his friend. His own hands were shaking, because Hanna still wouldn't respond to his questions, and as he glanced across the room at Worth and his 'girlfriend', he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He thought, for a moment, that he'd looked like the one that had been shot. Then he watched Worth for a moment, who was fighting back the woman's tugging him into the back room. Roosevelt looked away in disgust when the woman caught sight of him and winked.

"It almost started raining when we got you here, at Worth's. He said Conrad might show up. I think it's sprinkling outside - looks like I'm spending the night...Worth has a girlfriend."

"H-hey, you made it, George..."

Hanna's voice was coarse, exhausted and as shaky as he was. But George looked up immediately and rested his head next to Hanna. He couldn't talk. There wasn't much he could say.

"Are you m-mad?"

George shook his head and looked back up at Hanna. The redhead looked genuinely _worried_.

"I'm not mad, Hanna, just scared to death. Does it hurt?"

Hanna didn't say much. For the first time, George noticed that Hanna had been crying somewhere along the way. Tear tracks had dried on his face. The only response Hanna had to offer was scooting over to give George some room to sit next to him. The gurney was probably big enough to hold four more Hanna's, anyway.

"S-sorry I made you worry, Timmy..." Hanna made it sound like he'd thrown a baseball through his window. Timmy shook his head again and the two huddled together. Timmy threw his coat over Hanna again and waited for the redhead to fall into sleep again. He thought he could hear something going on in the back room, like things being moved around, but he decided not to investigate and tuned his ears instead to the reassuring sound of Hanna's breathing. Timmy realised, although it was a truth he'd known for some time, that he was very attached to Hanna. The redhead had become his little brother. He had filled the void in his memory with Hanna. Who needed whatever he left behind? He felt horrible for thinking that, hated himself for it, but Hanna just felt more important.

Hanna _was _more important to him.

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**Okay, so when I planned this out I did not intend for Timmy to join Hanna, that just sort of fit, I think~**

**Sorry it took me so long to write this one, but I'm very happy with the way it turned out. **

**Although, be warned, there won't be any romance where this is headed. I just can't do that guys, I'm sorry.**

**Please tell me what you think, as always.**


	4. Sweet Dreams

Hanna did not have an easy time sleeping, even with Timmy on the gurney. His tiny fists would clench and unclench his orange shirt, and occasionally his breathing would speed up and become little whimpers. Timmy would shake his shoulder, and with a jolt, Hanna's eyes would snap open. He would say it was only a bad dream, would practically beg Ike not to go get Worth. Ike would fold and talk calmly to Hanna about trivial things, like unicorns or places he wanted to see or what he wanted for dinner until the redhead drifted off into sleep again and the cycle repeated itself. For the seventh time, Hanna woke, but this time on his own and with a pained shout.

"Hanna, I have to get Worth, you could be getting worse..." Ike threw his legs over the side and carefully lifted Hanna by the shoulders. Hanna dizzily shook his head and clenched onto Ike's shirt. His voice was a hoarse whisper, and Ike had to lean in to hear a word of it.

"'M fine - don't go Lowell, p-please," Every syllable was choked and forced, as though Hanna had tried biting into a cactus before talking. Lowell looked his friend over with remorse and shook his head.

"I'll be right back, Hanna, it'll be okay,"

Hanna couldn't even lift himself up. The redhead tried to reach out to Lowell one last time, and his hand only lay off the table, his frame shaking as the coat slid to the floor. Lowell only hurried, opening the door to the back room and throwing a worried glance back at Hanna, who wasn't looking at him.

"Wor-"

"_Shit_! Close th' fuckin' door, asshole! Ever heard'a _knocking_?"

Lowell had cast his eyes in the other direction as soon as he'd seen that either one or both of them were completely undressed. Rubbing his forehead anxiously, Lowell took two steps back from the door. How could Worth even consider - he didn't let himself finish. As the door opened again, Worth had his back to it, and he was saying something to the woman. Lowell didn't bother to listen. Worth's sex life wasn't what he was interested in, although he would probably include this when he told Conrad what happened later. Worth stepped out, still not facing the room.

"I'll be righ' back, calm down, would yeh?" Worth turned - finally - to face Lowell. He was in his boxers, and his short hair had clearly been run through by a hand once or twice, "This better be _'mportant_."

But before Lowell could ask why Worth wouldn't just _look _at Hanna, or even think about how to explain the situation, a soft _thud _came from around the corner. Worth and Lowell were still for a moment, both of them hoping - no, praying - that it'd been a book, or maybe someone outside, but they knew what had happened. After the first second of frozen silence, they wrestled each other to get out first, and although Worth had won the race, Lowell was first to help Hanna. In a struggle to get up and walk, Hanna had fallen on his face. Worth was shovelling through a pile on his desk for something, and Lowell was helping Hanna back onto the gurney.

"Put 'im on 'is back - we need'ta check the stitches, see if they're _'fected,_" Worth muttered, clearly deep in thought, "An' don't put 'im back on that gurney. Don' want 'im gettin blood all over it an' shit."

Lowell silently lifted Hanna, bridal style, and lay his back on a cool operating table as close to the desk as possible. While Worth reached over his desk with a strained curse for a light switch, Lowell crouched to pick up his jacket and the few things that had fallen out of its pockets. A tiny pink crane, a bottle cap, a silver beaten necklace and a spare button. He stuffed them back in as he crossed the room again and loomed over the operating table, a hand on Hanna's shoulder.

"Worth? I think something's wrong..."

"Wuh-?" Worth looked down at Hanna's face, and his shoulders slumped. Hanna's eyes were unfocused and unmoving, his chest had stopped rising and falling, but his arm was covered in lime-green lines. They were like veins, but parallel and straight, not a curve in them. They had travelled up to the middle of Hanna's forearms. Once Worth got a look at them, he dropped the bandage and ran a hand through his hair, "Aw, fuck me..."

"What? What's going on - why isn't he breathing - " Lowell wouldn't let the thought of death cross his mind, but he knew it was a real possibility. Worth put two fingers on Hanna's cold neck.

"'E's gotta pulse, don' worry...Jus' dreamin'," There was a note of relief to Worth's voice, but his face was twisted into an expression of pity as he reached over to Hanna's face and closed his eyes, "The rune got to 'im."

"Wh- what do you mean? What can we do?"

Lowell knew the answer. There wasn't anything. Worth didn't speak, he just lit up a cigarette and looked down at Hanna, the way a father might look at a son in a hospital bed. He just shook his head and didn't look away. Lowell knew Worth was masochistic, knew that he enjoyed feeling hurt, so was that why he could just stare at a lifeless Hanna that way? Lowell though he looked ready to be laid to rest in a coffin, and the thought made his dead stomach sink and made it difficult for him to swallow.

"What'll happen to him now?" The question was small, as if he was afraid to ask it.

"Well, he'll be like that fer a few days, an' when 'e wakes up, there's a chance he doesn't 'member some stuff."

Lowell didn't have time to ask 'like what' because a the noise of the door handle turned caught both Worth and his attention. The rain could be heard from the back of the office as it slapped against the metal door, like confetti hailing the visitor. From the corner of his eye, Lowell saw as Worth's stare returned to Hanna as Lamont stepped into the bleak room. He also realized he would be blocking Lamont's view of Hanna, from where he was standing.

"Hey, Worth, looks like a party outside. Couldn't get in without fifty cops and journalists bugging me 'bout some shootout -"

Lamont's voice faltered as he stood next to the desk, and Lowell observed the emotion change in his face as his gaze shifted down to the unmoving Hanna.

"_Christ_, Worth, is he -?"

Worth shook his head, snuffed out the cigarette, and went back into the back room, leaving Lowell to explain the situation.

"Looks like a fucked up projectile rune. I think he messed it up when he wrote it...Just a case of rune poisoning - he's been through it before. He knows what to do...But on top of his other injuries...You'll stay to watch him, won't you?"

Lowell nodded. Lamont didn't even look to see if he did, because the answer was obvious to anyone that knew how close the two had grown.

"If this is anything like last time, he's going to need you. If he starts looking apprehensive or starts muttering, you should talk to him. Worth would play him Queen, but we busted the radio, so talking'll have to do." Lamont looked back at Lowell one more time before he opened the door and stepped through it, "I'll take care of the paparazzi..."

* * *

Hanna's eyes snapped open and he struggled to catch his breath. A familiar but half-forgotten sensation of blood racing through him like electricity made him sit up. One arm supporting himself, Hanna checked everything else with the other. The rune on his hand was gone, the cut on his neck had disappeared, and finally, he lifted up his shirt. The staples were there, because they always followed him, but the gunshot wound had apparently vanished as well. Any other scar or bruise was gone. All that was left was the zig-zag scar on his chest. That was all the confirmation he needed - he was dreaming. But he wasn't sleeping, he was poisoned. Hanna shuddered and got to his feet, surprised at how easy it was after having crashed onto Worth's floor earlier. He had been there before, but it was completely different circumstances this time. The only upside was the fact that he had Nikolai watching over him.

Hanna brushed off the dirt on his clothes, because here, appearences were everything. He took off his glasses and tucked them into his pocket. He could see fine without them - further proof that he was dreaming. With his newfound high-definition eyesight, Hanna took in his surroundings. Hanna knew that this world was exactly whatever he imagined it to be, but for some reason, he could never control what he created. He couldn't make locked doors open, he couldn't fly, and he certainly couldn't get the cute girls. The dream's limitations were just like reality's, because that was the only way Hanna could imagine living. With restrictions and problems.

He knew that nothing would be like it was last time - aside from a few key factors. He would be unwelcome, someone would show up sooner or later to talk to him, and no matter what he did he didn't fit there, and everyone else knew it. Hanna rested his back against a railing, knowing that he wouldn't be able to squeeze through the windows - even the unboarded ones - and that both doors would be locked. All he had to do was wait.

What felt like hours passed Hanna by before the clanking of heels could be heard on the staircase behind him.

"_Shit_. _Finally_, took you guys long enough, -" But he was a bit surprised to see who was behind him, "This is one _fucked up _dream."

In front of him stood his best friend, the peanut butter to his jelly, the Scooby to his Doo, the guy he considered to be his big brother and best friend. With a few key differences - He wasn't green. Orange eyes illuminated a gray scene, and so did a wry smile. A hand about the size of Hanna's was held out, and he noticed that the nails had been painted orange and black. Hanna looked his friend up and down before clasping _her _hand to shake.

His best friend had _boobs_.

"Okay, so you're a _babe _in my head," Hanna muttered and looked her up and down again. At least she wasn't ugly. She nodded wordlessly and her smile dissipated from her face, "Mind telling me why?"

"Mmm, well, maybe it's because you _want _me to be a girl." She raised a brow and remained silent for a moment, "I wouldn't get us confused, Hanna, because I'm not going to lay next to you while you sleep here."

"Of course not," Hanna muttered under his breath as she turned around to open a door. The sky was a dull reddish-gray, clouds blocking the orange sunlight. "Let's not make things _too _easy, right?"

"You want out of here, don't you?" She turned her head to look at him, and Hanna only nodded, "Right...Well, it's not going to be easy. This place has gotten a bit worse since the last time you were here."

Hanna nodded. "Yeah, _you _showed up."

His face reddened when he realized what he'd said, but Nick's lady counterpart only chuckled. She was very different - Hanna wasn't sure he'd ever heard Kade laugh at all, even at Calvin and Hobbes. Maybe they only looked alike.

"...Or maybe this is what you wish he was."

"Woah - you know what I'm thinking?" Hanna must have jumped a foot into the air, but his expression went from fascinated to infuriated, "Hobbes is amazing the way he is! I wouldn't change anything about him! _Ever_!"

"You wouldn't make it impossible for him to remember? You wouldn't make him like you - just a little bit more?"

Hanna shook his head vigorously, and without hesitation. She smiled again and took a step closer, her hand outstretched.

"Give me your marker, Hanna, I think I should show you something."

"Wuh?"

"I'll get it -" She rolled her eyes, and before Hanna knew what was going on, she'd grabbed his shirt and pulled him in closer, her hand immediately wrestling into his back pocket, retrieving his spare magic marker. Hanna's face went darker than he thought possible, and when she took a step back, her grin reminded Hanna vaguely of Veser.

"Watch _this_."

She uncapped the marker and spun Hanna round, facing the opposite door. She was right behind him, which worried Hanna, but she rested her arm on his shoulder and aimed the marker at the door. She muttered something Hanna didn't understand, and the resounding bang made Hanna stumble backward. She caught him and straighted him back onto his feet, smiling lightly and she held out the marker for him.

"Now you try - and _don't _point it at me."

Hanna glanced nervously at her, almost unwilling to take the marker at first. But she pushed it into his open palm and held his arm, which was pointed at the staircase. They glanced at each other.

"Ready? Repeat after me - _Prae."_

_"P-Prae -"_

A cloud of almost _cartoonish _smoke curled around the mangled staircase. Hanna had become deaf to the explosion, but his fear dissipated after he heard her mutter something about a 'job well done'. Hanna was about to fire again before she put the cap on the marker and dragged him by the arm to the door she'd opened earlier.

"Now, here are some coloured markers, and that word I taught you does different things for each one. Just don't point them at someone you care about, 'kay? When you're done with them, I'll throw a rope ladder down and we can start planning to get you out of here."

"What - hey! Watch it...Now, let's go over this one more time -"

He was interrupted by her hands on the small of his back, and before he stumbled over the edge of what seemed to be a cliff, he heard her laugh.

"See you soon, Hanna!"

* * *

**To Fuzzy: Thank you very much! I took that into consideration and I hope this one's a bit longer. Ask and you shall receive, right?**

**I hope I ended that on a good note. I didn't want to do too much in one chapter. I know she's different than the Gallahad we know and love, but it'll make sense later. If I do this right, anyway. In case you didn't get that, he won't be _writing _runes for a while.**

**As always, tell me what you think!**


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